


hør på meg, og jeg vil høre på deg  (listen to me and i'll listen to you)

by kitsunechikyu



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Fix-It, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Isak has done some thinking, Isak says sorry for some ignorant stuff, Light Angst, Other, Sana Bakkoush & Isak Valtersen Friendship, and Sana comforts him for some of his past, biology buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:09:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunechikyu/pseuds/kitsunechikyu
Summary: “Why do you believe in God?” he blurts.Wow, Isak. Smooth. Good job.Sana’s eyes immediately snap to his and narrow. She puts her pen down and leans forward, challenge written all over her pretty features.“The last time you asked me that,” she says, “We both ended up saying some hurtful things. You sure you want a rematch?”Isak cringes at the memory. That conversation was not one of his best moments. He’d gone into it bitter and confused and not willing to hear a proper answer. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he was hoping to get from it; maybe he had just been looking for a fight. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.“That wasn’t… I was kind of a dick,” Isak admits.(or; Isak apologizes for some things, and Sana learns more about her biology buddy)





	hør på meg, og jeg vil høre på deg  (listen to me and i'll listen to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It is becoming pretty obvious that Julie will not have Isak or Sana address their conversation again, or any of the kinda not-so-great stuff that was said, so I did it instead. I love Isak and Sana with all my heart, and I want them to be happy <3

They are sitting in the cafeteria, biology textbooks spread out between them, when Isak finally gets up the courage to ask the question.

 

“Sana,” he says, awkwardly clearing his throat.

 

Sana hums, but doesn’t look up from her notes. Exams are only a week away and they have both been super keen on getting in as much study time as possible. Isak doesn’t want to jeopardize her concentration, but he knows that if he doesn’t say this now, he probably never will. He taps his fingers nervously on the table.

 

“Why do you believe in God?” he blurts.

 

_Wow, Isak. Smooth. Good job._

 

Sana’s eyes immediately snap to his and narrow. She puts her pen down and leans forward, challenge written all over her pretty features.

 

“The last time you asked me that,” she says, “We both ended up saying some hurtful things. You sure you want a rematch?”

 

Isak cringes at the memory. That conversation was not one of his best moments. He’d gone into it bitter and confused and not willing to hear a proper answer. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he was hoping to get from it; maybe he had just been looking for a fight. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

 

“That wasn’t… I was kind of a dick,” Isak admits.

 

Sana scoffs. And, yeah. Isak kind of deserves that.

 

“But… I’m not trying to be this time, I promise,” he says. “I’m just curious.”

 

Sana regards him critically for a minute, eyes scanning his face for insincerity. Evidently, she must not find anything aggressive in his expression, because she eventually sighs and looks down at her hands.

 

“There are a lot of reasons, but I guess it’s mostly because I don’t think this world, with all its intricacies, can be random.”

 

She grins like she’s remembering something pleasant, and Isak makes a mental note to ask about that later. He nods his head for her to continue.

 

“It’s also because, when I pray, I feel like I can focus. I feel at peace, like I can let go of my problems. It helps me remember that I don’t have to do things all by myself. I feel… safe.”

 

She says it with so much conviction that Isak can physically feel the weight of her words. It hurts a little, because it’s never been like that for him. Religion has only ever made him feel like he was suffocating. He bites his lip and gives her a weak smile.

 

“That sounds really nice. Makes me kinda wish I had that,” Isak jokes.

 

It comes out a bit strained and he can tell Sana picks up on it. Her eyes go softer and she reaches across the table to nudge his hand.

 

“Hey, what’s all this about?” she asks.

 

Isak shrugs. He doesn’t quite know what to say. Sana has become such a constant in his life over the past six months, with her sarcastic remarks and witty banter. He cares about her a lot, but he feels like they aren’t always on the same page. When he had brought it up to Even, his boyfriend had laughed at him.

 

_“Why are you laughing? I’m being serious here.”_

_“Isak, I love you, but sometimes you let your mouth run wild before your brain can catch up.”_

_“I asked for your help and now you’re insulting me? Thanks a lot, dickhead.”_

_“No, no, listen. I know you mean well, babe. But you tend to talk over people when you get an idea in your head. Sana knows more about certain topics than you do, just like you know more than she does about other ones. You gotta accept that and try listening first before you go off arguing. Otherwise, you’ll hurt her without meaning to.”_

 

Isak had been frustrated at being called out, but after thinking about it he understands what Even meant. He _does_ say ignorant things, even though it isn’t always intentional. Isak’s stomach flips every time he thinks about that stupid mental illness comment he made at the beginning of his and Even’s relationship. He nearly ruined their chances before they had even started. He's tried so hard to be better, yet he still constantly ends up with his foot in his mouth.

 

Isak fiddles with the ring of his binder.

 

“I guess I just wanted to actually hear you out this time,” he says.

 

He chances a glance up at Sana, who is looking at him with poorly concealed concern. Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion and she shakes her head.

 

“I’m not very good at listening,” Isak starts, holding a hand up when his friend starts to protest. “No, don’t make excuses for me. I know I’m not. Last time I asked you about this specifically, I was really angry and hurt because…”

 

His throat closes as he tries to get the words out. _Because my mom was spiralling into a mental breakdown with a very religious bend._

 

Things with his folks are currently better than they have been in ages. They can have civil conversations now, and Isak actually makes an effort to visit his mom every once and a while, but it is still hard. His father is unapologetic in his reasons for abandonment and refuses to listen to Isak when he tells him that his mother shouldn’t be left alone. Isak’s pretty sure his dad also blames him for running away, even though _he_ was the one who did it first. It’s still convoluted and messy, and it still fucking _hurts_. Sana doesn’t know more than the bare minimum, and he struggles to talk about it openly with anyone who isn’t Even or Jonas, but if Isak wants to get anywhere with this conversation, he has to be honest.

 

“You know how my mom is sick,” he tries.

 

Sana nods.

 

“Back before I got with Even, she was really bad. Bad enough that my dad left us.”

 

Sana squeezes his hand in reassurance and Isak smiles at her appreciatively.

 

“He took my sister and walked out. I was sixteen and still in the closet and I had no clue what to do or how to take care of my mom so…”

 

Isak hates admitting to the next part of the story, no matter how many times he tells it.

 

“I left too. I ended up at Eskild’s and I stopped seeing my mom altogether. But she has this thing – like an obsessive-compulsive thing, I think – where she sends long messages filled with Bible verses about sin and repenting, so even though I wasn’t living with her, she would still bombard my phone. They made me feel like I was a mistake, like I was going to hell for being gay and it fed into what I was already feeling."

 

Isak blows out a breath.

 

“Instead of dealing with it like a healthy human being, I took it out on other people. That conversation we had was fueled by me feeling like religion was only there to hurt and isolate me. I’ve never been able to associate it with good things since realizing I was gay. But that had nothing to do with you and I shouldn't have been a jerk.”

 

He scuffs his nose with his sleeve to try and conceal how watery his voice is getting. God, why were emotions so hard?

 

“And you know, I thought I had gotten better at not doing... that. At not saying stupid shit when I’m angry, or when I have my head stuck up my own ass, but apparently not.”

 

Sana laughs at that, though not unkindly.

 

“I mean, yeah, but I think a lot of people do that. Including me, it would seem,” she says.

 

Isak chuckles along with her, but he sobers up quickly. He needs to get the rest of this off his chest.

 

“I know, but I say things that I have no business saying. Like the other day, when we were talking on the bench, about the emails…”

 

This time, Sana is the one who cringes. It’s a barely visible flinch, but Isak sees it all the same and he hates that Sana was ever made to feel so alone.

 

“I told you that your feelings were bullshit, and they’re not.”

 

He makes sure to look directly into her eyes as he continues.

 

“You’re right, people are stupid and there is a lot of prejudice. Even if I do truly believe that most Norwegians try to be peaceful, I also know that people can be awful, especially when they think you are different.”

 

Isak pauses, trying to find the right way to explain.

 

“For me, it’s like… I’m fine being open and out when I’m at school or with my friends. I don’t care what people think here, and I know that I have the boys and you and Eva to back me up. But when it’s just me and Even alone in public, it can be terrifying. We won’t even be kissing, we’ll just be holding hands and some big guy on the tram will give us a look and all I’ll be able to think is ‘oh, crap here we go’, because you never know whether or not people will stop at dirty looks. They could get violent, or start shouting, and they do sometimes.”

 

He rubs a hand over his eyes, tiredly. There are a few too many memories of getting yelled at from car windows for him to ever feel completely safe again.

 

“Other times, it’s just everyday bullshit. There was this douchebag that Jonas used to hang out with in first year, who would be casually homophobic all the time. It made me so uncomfortable with myself and I couldn’t complain about it without people calling me overly sensitive.”

 

Sana makes a sound of quiet understanding.

 

“And in terms of wearing a hijab,” Isak says, feeling an ache of regret as his biology partner tenses. “you know _way_ better than I do. I have no fucking clue what it is like to be Muslim, so I shouldn’t talk about it. I’m not helping you by being obstinate and making you feel like your experiences aren’t valid. _Only you can feel what you feel_.”

 

The sentence feels as true leaving his mouth now as it did when he said it to Even.

 

“Look, I’m not great at apologies,” he starts. “But… I _am_ really sorry, Sana.”

 

Sana stares at him and for a second Isak thinks she might just brush it off, that she'll nod and move on like they usually do, but she doesn’t. Instead she smiles at him, warm and gentle, and squeezes his hand again.

 

“Thank-you, Isak,” she says. “You’re a good person.”

 

Isak cracks a lopsided smile of his own as she relays his words back to him.

 

“I’m working on it, Sanasol,” he says and he means it.

 

Sana brings her attention back to their textbooks, flipping through until she finds the right chapter.

 

“Well, we will work on it together. We are partners after all,” she says with a smirk.

 

“Best buds,” Isak corrects.

 

“Yeah, best buds.”


End file.
